


14. Sam and Ryan celebrate in their own way

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [14]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	14. Sam and Ryan celebrate in their own way

_**Ryan Kwanten and Sam Worthington celebrate in their own way**_  
[current]  
[ **warning:** bloodplay]

 

The Sydney club has a slightly different atmosphere than the Los Angeles one; less self-conscious, Ryan dares to think. Less velvet, more leather. And although it's still got its share of people wanting to be seen, fewer of them seem like they're _checking_ to see just who's looking. Ryan grins as he enters the bar, spotting Sam immediately. His grin fades when he notices the man obviously chatting Sam up, angling in _this close_ until he's a breath away from actually touching. Hot, and showing it off. Pretty, and younger than Ryan by a good decade at least. Ryan notes Sam's predatory smile and nearly veers off track to avoid the two of them, wondering if maybe Sam's plans for the night are changing, changing to something that doesn't include him.

 _Fuck that_ , he decides after a second, and strolls up to the bar, favoring both men with an even smile. "Hey."

"Hey." Sam's grin widens and he reaches out to tug Ryan close, kissing him on the mouth, well aware they're being watched. "How was your day?"

"Good. Polished something to finish," Ryan answers, letting his fingers curl over Sam's nape before he steps back. Settled a bit by the kiss. "How was your meeting?"

"Good. We seemed to reach mutually agreeable terms," Sam says, eyes lingering on Ryan before he turns back to the boy beside them. "Ryan, this is Will. Will was keeping me company until you arrived. Will, this is my," he congratulates himself on only the slightest hesitation, "boyfriend, Ryan."

"Pleased to meet you," Will says with a smile, holding out his hand to the man he suspects is going to ruin all his fun. Unless they're both up for doing him. But still. Boyfriend? What the fuck?

"Likewise," Ryan says, shaking Will's hand briefly. Surprised to hear Sam use the b-word, but pleased. Definitely pleased. He focuses on the slender young man in front of him, the big dark eyes, dark hair. Lush lips. Thinks about the bite mark he left on Sam's inner thigh, there for any pretty young thing - who gets close enough - to see, and feels the edge of his jealousy fade.

Sam nods. "It was good talking to you," he says to Will, "but you're gonna have to excuse us. I have something special planned and there's no room for a third. Not tonight anyway. Maybe another night?" he adds, thinking they still have a couple more nights before they leave for London.

Will's face falls at the first part but he forces a smile at the promise of another night and nods at them both, making his escape as soon as he can.

"Something special?" Ryan echoes, intrigued. He steps closer, making room for himself between Sam's thighs. _His_ spot. He grins. "Tell me."

"First things first," Sam says, reaching behind him for a manila envelope which he hands to Ryan. "Just to be sure."

Ryan quirks a brow and takes the envelope. His heart starts to race as soon as he pulls out the sheets of paper, both with Citadel's discreet emblem. From the lab. "Negative," he whispers, reading the test results. He'd known they would be - had staked everything on it - but still. It's good to hold the proof in his hands. He grins at Sam. "We're celebrating?" Remembering Sam's words back in L.A., things he'd only dared dream of...

Sam nods and hands over the keycard he'd gotten from the front desk upon arrival. "304," he says, thoroughly enjoying the look on Ryan's face. "You can lead the way."

It's a quick trip up in the lift, and Ryan keeps tight hold of Sam's hand. Unwilling to let go just yet. Room 304 looks like any other at first glance, but proves to be ready with a stainless steel medical tray of knives - and first aid kit - waiting by the bed. Cuffs, cock ring, and more as well, and Ryan's breath hitches. "You did this for me," he breathes, stunned. His cock already swelling in his jeans.

"I told you what I'd do when we got the results," Sam says with a small smile. "And I always keep my word."

"And you don't say things you don't mean. I'm learning about you," Ryan murmurs, setting the manila envelope and key aside so he can take both of Sam's hands in his. "Another thing is you don't run when I freak you out. That means a lot." He brushes a kiss over the backs of Sam's knuckles.

"When you freak me out?" Sam says, not entirely sure what Ryan means.

"When I get too serious and start talking about what you mean to me," Ryan says softly, for once meeting Sam's gaze and holding it, instead of changing the subject as he usually does. "I have a feeling you're going to have to tolerate that today, with all this." He nods towards the bed, the knives.

"Does that mean I shouldn't have done it?" Sam teases.

"No." Ryan's grin is like quicksilver. "Just giving you fair warning." He takes off his jacket and lays it over a chair. "May I undress for you, Sir?"

"Yeah." Sam nods, eyes glued to Ryan. His fucking gorgeous boyfriend.

Grinning faintly, Ryan slowly unbuttons his shirt, then shrugs it from his shoulders. He crouches down to unlace his trainers, and barely resists the urge to kiss Sam's boots and work his way up. Standing, he peels out of his jeans, well-worn and clinging to his thighs. Naked. Unmarked.

"Now you know why I held off on using that belt," Sam murmurs, eyes sparkling as they trail over Ryan from top to bottom and back again. His blank canvas. Christ. Cock already aching he nods again. "You can undress me too."

"With pleasure." No kidding. Ryan revels in the feel of Sam's bare skin as he reveals it, drawing off each piece of clothing one by one. Dropping to his knees and nuzzling Sam's thigh as he slips his boots off, pulls his jeans down. Hard enough to leak already, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Stay there," Sam orders, sliding his hand into Ryan's hair and pulling his face against his groin. "Give me your mouth first." Confident he'll be hard again when he needs to be.

Ryan moans softly and turns his head, licking out. He starts at the root and gently nibbles his way up, laving Sam's cock with attention. Worshiping with his mouth, then adding his hand. Slowly beginning to stroke.

"Did I say I wanted your hand?" Sam's voice is still soft but there's an edge to it.

"No, Sir." Ryan instantly snatches his hand away, and re-doubles his efforts. Taking Sam into his mouth as deep as he can, then drawing back with a lascivious suck. Again.

"Fuck, yeah," Sam murmurs, pushing deeper the next time Ryan takes him in, his hand tight against the back of Ryan's neck.

Ryan chokes a little, and locks his hands tight together at the small of his back. He drops his head back and swallows around the crown of Sam's cock, feeling it fill his throat until he's sure he'll gag. Then he goes for more, opening himself up to Sam.

Sam rocks his hips forward, pushing still deeper, keeping his cock shoved down Ryan's throat, filling it, for a good long moment, savouring the feel, the incredible fucking feel of it, before drawing back and pushing in again, his thrusts starting to gain speed as his orgasm approaches.

Now Ryan does choke but he ignores it, gasping for breath as he can. Begging with his body for Sam to use him, hurt him. Like he owns him, like Ryan exists for nothing else. The idea lights him on fire.

"That's it. Fucking take it," Sam growls softly, holding nothing back in the last few thrusts before his hips hitch and his cock spurts, flooding Ryan's throat.

Ryan swallows automatically, dizzy with the taste, the feel. His hands clench into fists and he gasps for air, then quickly begins licking Sam clean. He could come at a touch right now, probably just a word. He knows he's not about to get it, and that just makes him harder.

"Good boy." The edge nicely taken off, Sam nods at the bed. "On your back, arms and legs spread," he orders.

Stumbling just a little, Ryan gets to his feet. The bed has cuffs at all four points, making him shiver a little as he lies down obediently. He wants to lift his head and look at Sam - to _watch_ , god - but more than that he doesn't want to do anything to fuck this up. So he tries to relax instead, looking up blindly.

Walking around the bed, Sam makes sure Ryan's well-restrained, all four limbs cuffed to the posts. That taken care of, he settles between Ryan's thighs, a black leather cock ring in his hand. It gets snapped tightly around Ryan's cock and balls. Leaning up, hands on either side of Ryan's head he kisses him, teeth pulling at his bottom lip, tongue teasing into his mouth.

Ryan moans into the kiss, responding hungrily. Sam's taste is so familiar now, and he craves it, always wanting more. He pulls against the restraints just to feel them bind him, then relaxes again beneath his lover.

"I'm just gonna wash my hands," Sam murmurs, licking his lips as he finally draws back. "Don't go anywhere." He grins.

"Yes, Sir." Ryan smiles slightly and takes a quick peek at Sam as he's leaving. Then he lies back and breathes deeply, feeling his focus narrow to this, _now_.

In the bathroom, Sam washes up well, scrubbing under his nails and making sure his hands and arms, right up to the elbows, get soap and the hottest water he can handle. He hates gloves. Can't stand the thought of latex between them for anything anymore. Still drying his hands on a nice fluffy towel as he settles back between his lover's thighs, he grins down at Ryan, enjoying the sight of him completely restrained. "Enjoying yourself?"

Ryan huffs a laugh, loving the look on Sam's face. "Yeah, actually." He flexes, pulling against his wrist cuffs. "But I missed you."

"I'll bet," Sam murmurs, unable to stop smiling. He tears open one antiseptic wipe after another, running them over Ryan's chest, arms, stomach and finally, his cock.

Every cold caress just heightens the tension further, Sam drawing a map on Ryan's body. Ryan shivers, sinking. Until that touch to his cock -- he jerks in surprise and then moans, aching even more now with the knowledge of what's coming.

"If I cut you here," Sam says, dragging the wipe over Ryan's cock again. "You don't reopen them. You got that?"

Ryan draws in a shaky breath. "Yes, Sir," he whispers, nodding a little.

"Good boy." Sam puts down the wipe and picks up a knife, admiring the beautifully sharpened edge. "I think we'll work our way down," he says with a smile, leaning forward, using the blade to make his first mark, hardly more than a scratch, on the front of Ryan's bicep, the blood beading along the line.

Shutting his eyes, Ryan focuses on sensation, works to not tense up. The tiny pain barely registers, but it's magnified by the significance of the act. The knowledge that this is Sam, drawing his blood.

Perfect. Sam places another four cuts beside the first, one line parallel to the next, blood beading along all of them, the colour stark against Ryan's skin.

Now fire sizzles over his arm and Ryan drags in a hissed breath. His cock throbs in its ring, trapped and needy. Slowly he opens his eyes and tries to focus on Sam's face, feeling himself slip down already.

Leaning further forward, Sam drops his head to Ryan's arm, tongue flicking out to taste, to smear the blood across the cuts, his mouth closing on all of them, sucking, a low groan welling in his chest as his cock gives a rough throb, already starting to fill again.

"Oh god." Ryan lifts his head, trying to watch. Lust rushes through him in an instant, kicking everything into overdrive at the feel of Sam's mouth.

The words and the need laid bare in them are Sam's cue to kiss Ryan, tongue delving into his mouth, letting him taste himself, share in that metallic tang.

Ryan whimpers and licks hungrily into his mouth. He arches off the bed to press into the kiss, hot and intoxicated, sucking on Sam's tongue. Rubbing his cock against Sam's thigh.

"Eager boy," Sam murmurs, eyes twinkling as he draws back. "Surely you don't want me to get distracted?"

"No, Sir," Ryan whispers, gaze fixed on the blood still smeared on Sam's lips.

"Let's even you up then," Sam murmurs, switching to the other arm, one cut after another lined up, matching the first set except for their neatness.

Fisting his hands, Ryan moans softly. His head is a mad rush of heat and noise now; nothing exists but this. Right now, with Sam looming over him. Completely in control.

The knife in his hand feels good, its blade sharp, its weight right, and Sam moves on from the test cuts, sitting back a little, the next cut an arc to the side of one nipple, this one a little deeper, the blood welling instead of beading.

Ryan gasps at the sudden burn. He stares hazily up at Sam, and the final piece locks into place: complete trust. "Thank you, Sir," he whispers.

Sam grins. "My pleasure," he whispers back, running his thumb through the blood and pressing it against Ryan's mouth. "Suck."

Parting his lips Ryan sucks, warm blood from Sam's skin. He keeps going long after the flavor has dissipated, lazily tracing his tongue over the grooves of Sam's thumb. Drowning in the sensuality of it.

It takes a long moment for Sam to pull back, to keep going, the temptation to stay, let Ryan keep doing what he's doing strong, arousal coiling tighter and tighter with each flick of his tongue. But finally he does, smile curving his lips, his hand itching to get the blade back on Ryan's skin, keep carving, his canvas barely started. He slices a second arc, mirroring the first, on the other side of Ryan's chest, then places his own cuts where others have gone before, reopening them, making them _his_ , moving lower and lower, the cuts shallow where they need to be, deeper where they can.

Ryan's panting now, holding his breath each time Sam touches the blade to his flesh. Light-headed. "Sir," he whispers, not even sure what he's asking for. Sam's possession grows more complete by the second, taking him over. Making Ryan his.

Sam puts the knife down. He runs his fingers through the cuts on Ryan's stomach, gathering liquid, dark and sticky. Slides his hand over his cock, stroking, watching his own skin turn red as he eases his knees under Ryan's thighs, blood-stained flesh pressed between his cheeks, pushing in, filling him, the path already slicked with lube.

Ryan shouts, jerking in his bonds. He grinds down on Sam's cock, taking him deeper, straining towards him. "Sir!" he cries out, "God damn it fuck yes Sir!" He's babbling now, overstimulated, wild with his blood binding them. His cock burning like a brand in between them. "Fuck me!" He nearly sobs the words.

"Shhh." Sam pushes deeper, stilling when he's in as far as he can go with Ryan bound like this. Wrapping his hand around Ryan's cock, the knife picked back up. "Stop. I need you to stay still for me."

The order filters through and Ryan arches, trying to focus. Slowly, slowly he forces himself to relax. Still breathing too fast, but becoming pliant beneath Sam once more.

"Good boy." Sam keeps his voice soft and low as he makes the finest of cuts in the head of Ryan's cock, his own pulsing, throbbing roughly inside him.

Ryan moans softly, biting down on his bottom lip. He shivers with the pain, everything in his world centered on his cock, Sam's touch.

"Look at that," Sam murmurs, making one more cut, the blood welling up quickly from both despite how shallow, how minor they really are. He sets the knife back on the tray and wraps his hand around Ryan's length, stroking tightly, his grip making them bleed more, red slicking his path, his hand, Ryan's cock.

Lifting up Ryan looks, wincing at the sharp sting, the pull on his trapped balls. Sam looks like a primal god, smeared with blood, demanding everything. Ryan drops his head back with a whimper, unable to stop the quick hitch of his hips, pushing into Sam's grip.

"That's it," Sam urges, nodding. "Now you can move, boy." His own hips starting to push his cock deeper, fuck it into Ryan's hole, his hand stroking and stroking, matching the rhythm, blood everywhere. Christ.

In mere seconds Ryan is desperate, lust raging hot. He grinds down on Sam, moving to the full extent his bonds allow. His world is a wash of pain, pleasure spiking through with every hard hitch of Sam's hips. "Please," he gasps, "fucking fill me. Make me yours."

Sam unsnaps the cock ring and shoves in even harder, nodding as his orgasm crests and hovers, there, right there, _fuck_. "Mine," he growls, pumping in roughly, his cock spurting, hot and hard and heavy, filling Ryan, marking him again and again and again. " _Mine._ "

Ryan cries out, his back snapping into an arch. His climax rushes through him so fast there's not even a thought of control. Sam's come sears him and it all blends together -- blood, come, sex, life. Sam. He collapses back onto the bed, his heart thundering. Dizzy and adrift.

Panting, Sam rides out the aftershocks, his hand working Ryan's cock until the last shudders through his frame. And then he stills, eyes taking in the sight before him, the blood, the come, the man before him, the one who checks every single fucking box he never knew he had. Until now. _His._ He swallows hard, his head swimming. It's too much. Suddenly too fucking much. But he takes another deep breath, lets it out slowly, nodding to himself, then eases out, his hands already reaching for the cuffs, slowly but surely freeing Ryan.

There's nothing Ryan can do but lie there, trying to breathe. He's fucking freezing, shudders with it in the aftermath, but even that need is too much to meet right now. "Love you," he whispers, staring hazily at Sam. Too overwhelmed to hold back the words.

The words hit Sam hard, like a punch to the gut and he nods, leaning in to kiss Ryan on the mouth, the gesture soft and warm but not enough, he knows. Not nearly. "Let's get you warmed up," he whispers, lying down beside his lover, the covers tugged at until they're over them both, his arms wrapped tight around Ryan, just holding him. Everything else can wait until later.

Ryan nods back, shutting his eyes tightly. He'd known nothing else would be coming; even in his daze, he'd known that. It's Sam. Whose actions mean a thousand times more than any words he neglects to say, and Ryan takes heart in that, settling into the embrace.  



End file.
